Rajasthan & Delhi: People

[...]

I buy my soul's food
Cook and eat it
And set the empty pot in the corner.

I warm my hands at the dying fire
And lying down to rest
Give God thanks.

The mill of night whistles
And from the moon-chimney
Smoke rises, sign of hope.

I eat what I earn,
Not yesterday's left-overs,
And leave no grain for tomorrow.

— Amrita Pritam